Here is a story unashamedly plagiarized from a recent posting, allowing me to spread the story of Tiny the troll onto this forum. The tragic tale speaks for itself....

Tiny the Troll was angry. His trip to the supermarket had become the usual minefield of feminist oppression. He had asked the woman in front of him in the checkout queue if he could skip the line, stating that he was in a hurry as he had important things to do. She had politely declined, explaining she also had equally important demands on her time, and had already waited some time to be served. Of course he should have been allowed to skip the queue, but women, as always, were obstructive and lacking a true appreciation of his birthright of male privilege. Tiny was putting on a brave face. After all, men across the world must suffer this constant barrage of misandry every day. Tiny was just glad that his overweening sense of his importance and lack of social skills had given him the skills to offend in any society.

Tiny was hot. It was now officially the hottest July ever recorded in this usually mild country and Tiny's overactive sweat glands and teenage acne was troubling him more than usual. As he walked past a building site a passing woman glanced at him. Tiny was outraged, and began to walk more quickly. That woman did not have boobies (he suppressed a giggle at the word) like a Page 3 girl! How dare she offend his eyes by not living up to his stereotypes? He knew that not dressing for the male gaze was used by women everywhere to demonstrate their hatred for men. He felt under attack, but that was just normal for a lone brave troll living in an apparently matriarchal society.

He only noticed the blonde girl in the little red convertible as the first woman waved at her. As the traffic lights turned to green, the blonde girl smiled and waved back before driving off. On realizing that the woman had been waving at the blonde girl in the car, Tiny the Troll was even more disturbed. Tiny could take it. Tiny was protected by the armor of his astoundingly misplaced self confidence. The girl in the car was quite clearly a slut, worthless for not paying any attention to a handsome young troll like him. She knew quite well the game she was playing and how deeply she could hurt him. She obviously knew that a female interaction without reference to men was a sign of a culture designed to crush the spirits of men. Some women called it communication, but Tiny had read Marky Mark and Return of the Kings, and Tiny knew better.

But Tiny was angry at the unattractive woman too. How could she participate in this barbaric behaviour? Didn't she realize that she was non existant and beneath his notice? Didn't she realize that that she was too unattractive to be part of his world?

Tiny the Troll was in a hurry now because he was bursting for a pee. Had he a non-inverted penis, not enshrouded by abdominal fat he could have ducked into the woods at the end of the town and relieved himself behind a tree. Of course in this feminist world, a man couldn't do that and anyway, everybody knew that the woods were full of women just waiting for their next victim of a false accusation of rape or indecent exposure. As he was walking past the park, she noticed a tall butch looking woman walking along with a little boy in bright blue and orange, carrying a pink teddy bear. "A pink bear" Tiny shuddered at the sight. Tiny knew that non gender normative clothes for boys constituted the first step in the process of oppressive gender deconstruction. Tiny knew there was no point in calling the police. They would do nothing as usual.

As Tiny the Troll walked past the bus-stop he cringed in disgust at the advertising billboard depicting a clearly non-sexualized woman, advertising a local news program. He felt the burden of the loss of a millennium of privilege crushing down on him. He had considered taking the bus but everyone knew that buses sometimes contained women, unfiltered by airbrushing. Anyway he could be sure that there would be even more offensive advertisements displayed inside the bus. Buses, Tiny understood were simply tools of feminist oppression and to add insult to injury, men were also forced to pay to use them, and sometimes even yield priority to other customers.

Tiny had no choice but to walk past the entrance to the rugby club on the way home. A group of teenage girls emerged just as he approached. It was almost as if they were lying in wait for him. She shuddered to think what evil was lurking in the foul minds of these little sluts that wouldnt look at him. The girls jostled and chatted to each other, laughing as they made their way up the street. Tiny knew that their sinister feminine behaviour was no laughing matter though. He knew that their cheerful freedom was training for the day when they would live as fully functioning members of society. They moved aside to let Tiny pass but Tiny did not mistake this for courtesy. Tiny, armed with the wisdom of MRA doctrine knew that they were just checking him out, objectifying him, deciding if he was to be mocked ignored or friend zoned.

Tiny the Troll closed the door behind him with a sigh of relief. He was finally safe from the attack of the straw feminists. His friend, Wayne the Wanker would be arriving later to share a microwave pizza. They would slug cheap cider together and write some rape threats to female internet posters, post some incoherent garbage on a parenting website and discuss various images with reference to 'the tits on that' and a ten point rating score. Wayne himself was writing a book called "I'm an oppressed cisgendered white male".

He looked forward to Waynes company. Wayne understood. Tiny had just been for a short walk into town to do some shopping and he had been intimidated, verbally abused and confronted with blatant misandry where ever he had looked. How men could survive such oppression every day was a great credit to the strength and perseverance of men everywhere, Tiny thought. Women would never survive such harsh and hostile conditions. Fiona felt a strange glow of pride. "I survived today" he whispered to himself. "I remain a knuckle dragging throwback - now get back in the kitchen woman, and make me a sandwich'

I think the next time Im faced with insomnia I might take some sleeping tablets instead...reading it back I seem to have lost the narrative continuity in the last 2-3 paragraphsperhaps Ill have better luck tackling ' Tiny goes for a job interview'